


Sweeter Than The Finest

by Guacameowle



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Desk Sex, Doggy Style, Established Relationship, F/M, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Humor, Lust, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Romance, Rough Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, male dom, multiple orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 13:15:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8209903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guacameowle/pseuds/Guacameowle
Summary: He kisses you as if he’s trying to guarantee you’ll never be satisfied with anyone but him. He kisses you until you tremble. Until you can’t think. Until you’re utterly and completely his.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything or anyone from Mystic Messenger... sadly.
> 
> Here's a smutty Jumin fic to whet your sinful appetite. Feedback is always welcome. Enjoy!
> 
> Also, if you can pick out my Sailor Moon plug in the fic, massive gold star for you!

You’d settled in nicely in your office at the C&R International building. You’d somehow managed to snag a spacious corner office with an incredible view, though you supposed that one Jumin Han may have had something to do with that.

After the boys had helped remove you from the bomb-laced apartment, you had been attempting to continue your work in a spare bedroom of Jumin’s penthouse. That had proved easier said than done due to “the beast” that lived inside Jumin, as Zen had mentioned.

As it turned out, you quite enjoyed “the beast” and hadn’t minded in the least when it made an appearance every so often... or five times a day, but it did tend to hinder productivity.

Despite his rather carnal interruptions, Jumin had recognized your talents with charities and recruiting people to attend parties hosted by the RFA. It wasn’t long before he extended an invitation to you to join the ranks of C&R International to handle their more charitable endeavors. After careful deliberation, and some encouragement from Jaehee, you’d agreed.

After your first attempt at helping host the party had been a success it was decided that the next party would have a higher guest count. Now instead of replying to a handful of emails a day, you were replying to hundreds. No pressure, right?

It’d been a few months since you’d settled in to your office and the job, but so far you hadn’t had any complaints! Come to think of it, that may have been because you were the wife of the corporate heir…

You could feel yourself scowl. You’d have to look into making sure your husband wasn’t interfering.

A rapid knock on your office door brought you back to the present from your thoughts.

“Come in!” You called happily. It wasn’t often you had people stopping by your office as most of your work and communication was done via email or the RFA messenger app.

Jaehee, looking haggard, casually walked into the room with a stack of documents cradled in her arms. Her glasses were askew and several strands of her hair were standing on end as if she had finished wringing her hands through it.

She gave you a polite nod and a small smile, “Mrs. Han, sorry to intrude.”

“Jaehee, it’s nice to see you, though please, no formalities. We’re friends after all!” You offered a pleasant smile. It really was lovely to have another woman in the RFA. You both had become fast friends and you considered yourself lucky to know her.

She quickly adjusted her glasses and returned your smile with a brilliant genuine one of her own. “May I?” She gestured to the small white leather settee against the wall of your office.

“Oh, yes! Please. Sorry, I should have offered you a seat sooner,” you rapidly remarked, slightly ashamed at your late manners.

Jaehee ungracefully plopped onto the sofa with a heavy sigh, quickly trying to readjust the copious documents in her hands from her rapid movement.

You gave her a few minutes to collect herself. The poor thing looked exhausted. You knew that a particular branch of the company was currently in the process of acquiring some new companies and Jumin, or Jaehee for that matter based on her appearance, wasn’t getting much sleep because of it.

Jumin had been coming home later than usual. For the past few weeks it’d become a sad habit of falling asleep without him next to you and waking up to see his side of the bed used but empty, his body heat having already dissipated from the sheets. You’d taken to rolling over to sleep on his side of the bed, nestled in the sheets and pillows that smelled of him, until you yourself had to get up and ready for work.

For the most part, the most communication you’d had with Jumin lately was through the messenger app and even then it had almost always been about official RFA business. You missed the flirty remarks, the poor attempt at jokes, and even the shaky photos he used to send. You supposed every relationship had its ups and downs. This just happened to be a small blip.

You did your best to encourage and support him in his work. You’d made it a point to remind him to eat, even going so far as to prepare the meals yourself hoping that extra ounce of love would help him get through his days on a better note.

You brought your attention back to Jaehee, who appeared to have collected herself for the most part.

“Should I ask how things are going?” You ventured cautiously.

The deadpan stare that she threw in your direction had you laughing out loud.

“I know he’s your husband, a respected member of the RFA, and my boss but sometimes I just wanna…” She made a show of shaking all the documents in her hands dramatically.

“Believe me, I understand what you mean,” you stated just as serious. “He can be quite a handful at times, I know.”

You enjoyed that Jaehee now felt comfortable enough with you to open up more about her life. You’d made it clear that even if you were married to her boss, you were her friend and willing to listen to her and help her when needed. It had taken her a while to come to terms with that, but she gradually opened up.

“I’m sorry for coming in here, I just…” she let out a whoosh of breath, “I just needed a second to breathe.”

“Don’t worry about it. Besides, I quite like the company. I don’t get many visitors,” your brows furrowed thoughtfully.

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t,” Jaehee replied remorsefully. “I guess I’ll have to make it a point to visit you more often,” she finished with a tired smile.

“How much sleep did you get last night, Jaehee?” You questioned softly.

“Hmm? Oh, about two hours. I think. I’m ok though, really,” she rushed to assure you, though you were far from assured.

“If you’d like, you’re welcome to use that settee to take a nap. I’ll try to type quietly so as not to disturb you. I could have the shades brought down too,” you said earnestly. “I really do appreciate all of your efforts for Jumin and the company. I wouldn’t want you to risk your health.”

You thought you saw a glassy shine of her eyes before she rapidly blinked it away.

“Oh, no I couldn’t. Mr. Han will be looking for me soon.”

Rising from your desk, just adjusted your blouse and smoothed out your skirt.

“No, I insist. I’ll handle Jumin. Just set an alarm on your phone. A power nap will do wonders.” You were already walking to your office door, leaving no room for argument.

“Well, I – uh… thank you,” Jaehee finished off weakly, the exhaustion evident in her voice.

When you reached your office door you threw a smile over your shoulder toward Jaehee and pressed a button along the light panel that brought down the shades, slowly dimming the room.

“Sweet dreams of Zen!” You quipped as you hurriedly stepped out and shut the door gently behind you, leaving Jaehee to her nap.

Jumin’s office was just a few hallways over. As you walked there you made friendly conversation with those around you.

Had you never been to Jumin’s office before you were certain that just seeing the door alone would have assured you that you were in the right place. It was grandiose in itself. Double doors, detailed intricate designs carved into the dark wood paneling and what you assumed was probably solid gold doorknobs.

You quickly rapped three times on the door with your knuckles. Immediately, you heard Jumin’s rich baritone voice calling out for you to enter.

You entered the office and took note of how it contrasted against your own. The paneling on the wall was dark, where you had opted for lighter tones. His sitting chairs and settee were pinstriped in a dark navy. You had chosen soft solid cream colors. His desk was the focal point of the room, dark, and rich in color. You wouldn’t be surprised if it had come from the same maker of his double doors. Your desk was mostly glass and delicate metaling.

His office smelled of him. His aftershave, sandalwood cologne, and a hint of mint. Yours likely smelled of your floral perfume, fresh paint, and the balsam candle you often lit.

It amazes you how you both contrast one another so much, but loved one another so intensely.

Your eyes settled on Jumin. He was hunched over his desk, furiously scribbling on documents. His suit jacket had been discarded to lay across the back of his office chair, tie slightly loosened, with his hair falling over his eyes as he worked.

Without looking up he called, “Jaehee, I need for you to bring me the final proposal agreement for the Chiba Corp merger.”

Clearing your throat, you smoothly replied, “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

Noticing the voice difference, Jumin’s head shot up to look at you. As you looked at one another his gaze softened and a small smile graced his lips, causing you to return a smile of your own.

He set his pen down and sat back in his chair, fingers interlacing and coming to rest across his stomach as he regarded you.

“To what do I owe this pleasure,” he paused as his smile curled into a devious smirk, “…Mrs. Han?”

You felt a blush forming on your cheeks. Though the name was still relatively new and you’d become accustomed to everyone else referring to you as such, when Jumin did it, it felt _sensual_ somehow.

To distract yourself for a moment to collect your wits about you, you walked slowly to the wall that was entirely windows. You could feel his eyes on you the entire time, traveling across your body. Appraising. Appreciating. Admiring.

As you looked out at the view, a view much better than that of your own office you realized, you stated almost defensively, “Do I need a reason to visit my husband,” at this you turned your head to look at Jumin directly, “…Mr. Han?”

His eyes held yours for a moment, blazing in their intensity, before he looked away and back down to the documents set upon his desk. “Of course not, my dear. I just wish it were when I didn’t have so much to do,” he finished with a sigh.

Turning to face him fully you noticed how tense he was in his shoulders, how he rubbed his neck briefly before reaching for his pen again.

“How are things going?” You softly asked, hoping your question didn’t further stress him.

“Right on schedule,” he answers abruptly. It’s his business answer, not his personal answer.

Taking a few steps closer to his desk you said resolutely, “Jumin, it’s just me here.”

At this he dropped his pen again, pushed back from his desk, and swiveled his chair to face you.

“I don’t know what this Chiba man is thinking. His demands are near impossible to meet. It’s not like he’s king of the world,” he finishes with a dramatic wave of his hand in a random direction towards the window and a growl of frustration.

His elbows fall to his knees as he slouches in his chair, hands hanging limply between his legs, head hung almost dejectedly.

His rant surprises you, but you’re glad he’s at least venting about it rather than holding in all of his emotions like he used to before he met you.

A few more steps and you’re directly in front of him. Gently you reach out to run your fingers through his hair. It’s soft, silky to the touch, light as it weaves through your fingers. The second time you run your fingers through it you lightly run you nails along his scalp.

Without looking up he reaches out, firmly grasping your hip with one hand and your bare thigh with another, urging you to shuffle a miniscule distance closer. His cool hand along your bare skin causing you to jump slightly. You weren’t sure though if it was from the drastic difference in your body temperatures or his skin directly touching yours. His head presses into your stomach as he wraps his arms around you, just holding you as he continues to look down.

You continue methodically running your fingers through his hair, your free hand coming to rest along his shoulder to maintain your balance from his arm wrapped around your thighs. The longer you stroke, the deeper and more calm his breathing becomes. He grips you a little tighter every now and then, but then relaxes his arms every so often.

You revel in moments like this. The deep intimacy. The comfortable silence. The warmth.

Your fingers venture to the nape of his neck, promptly noticing the tense musculature. Smoothly, you massage along his neck, working out the stress and ache. He lets out a deep sigh and an almost near-silent groan as his neck visibly relaxes.

The hand at his neck travels to his broad shoulders. They’re just as tense, if not more so. You can feel the intensity of their strain, be it from stress or from holding onto you. You work your hands in mirroring movements to try to work out all of his kinks, silently enjoying running your hands over him, feeling him.

He’s firm under your fingers. Strong, solid, powerful, and masculine. The longer you work his shoulders the more his little hums of appreciation make themselves heard, his deep voice reminding you of noises he’s made previously while under the influence of your touch.

You bite your lip as your memories bring a rosy color to your cheeks. The familiar throbbing of arousal works its way throughout you.

His thumb on your bare thigh rubs up and down in a light continuous motion. Every so often you feel a slight shiver run through you at the touch causing you to shift your weight from one leg to the other as inconspicuously as you can manage.

After several minutes you feel his shoulders relax, muscles giving way to your fingers, no longer tense. You slide your hands to his upper arms feeling the strong muscles there, taut with the act of holding onto you. Muscles that have managed to pull and hold you in various positions to his liking. Muscles that have manipulated you to the point of utter complete sexual satisfaction.

You run your hands up and down, turning your wrist occasionally to feel all sides of his arms, squeezing every so often and just simply enjoying.

Soon he lets out another deep sigh and sits up in his chair, only he doesn’t let you go. As he slowly sits up, he tugs you closer to him still. You’re forced to take a few tiny steps to accommodate his motion. You stand between his legs as he readjusts his hold on you to place both of his hands on your hips, his face buried directly beneath your bosom. Your hands come to rest on his shoulders again.

You find yourself wanting to be pressed closer still. Head to toe, within and around one another, so wrapped up you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. It’s been too long and suddenly his nearness is targeting you more than expected. You’re heated and becoming lightheaded… and he hasn’t even done anything to you.

You try to distract yourself to keep from thoughts of office indecency. Though you’re loathe to break the comfortable silence, you find yourself longing to at least hear his voice again.

“Feel better?” It’s a question that could easily be answered just by looking at him.

“Mmm, yes.” His answer is muffled by his face buried in your abdomen, the gentle vibrations rippling across your stomach. You can’t help but give a giggle at how cute you find him.

He tilts his head up so his chin is resting on your stomach and gazes up at you between the valley of your breasts, eyes bright and teasing.

“And what, exactly, is so funny, if I may ask?” His tone is playful, the beginnings of a full smile on his face.

Your hands come up to cup his cheeks. Your eyes follow your fingers as they lightly stroke his nose, the arch of his eyebrows, his temples, the valleys beneath his eyes. His skin is soft, slightly stubbly where he needs to shave, but otherwise unblemished. You brush away the silken hair that’s always falling across his forehead into his eyes, only to have it fall back once more. His slate eyes peer up at you with love and mild confusion as you gaze at him so adoringly. His jaw line is sharp and defined. Dignified. His lips are smooth and pink. Kissable.

He’s perfect.

“Nothing,” it’s a whisper. You hear the lust in your voice but hope he doesn’t. “I just… think you’re cute.”

One delicate eyebrow juts up. “Cute.” It’s not a question when he speaks though.

“Mmhm. Very cute,” you say with a sly smile. You know he would probably prefer being called devilishly handsome, or devastatingly gorgeous, but he tends to humor you when you call him cute.

You ache with want to kiss him, but you don’t want to break the pleasant embrace, and you aren’t sure you’ll be able to be satisfied with just one kiss at this point. Your body is responding far too quickly to his simple affections, to his rare softness.

He buries his face again in your abdomen, his fingers clenching on your hips and takes in a deep breath.

“You smell so good.” There’s almost a growl in his voice as he says it on an exhale. His fingers clench tighter at your hips, catching your skirt in his fists.

Abruptly, he pulls his face from you and looks at his hands inquisitively, running the material of your skirt through his fingers.

“Is this new?” He asks, though you’re confused as to why he’s so concerned about your skirt. You welcome the distraction from your building need for him though.

“Relatively. I’ve had it for a while I just never wore it often. Why? Do you want to borrow it? I’m not sure it’s your color, darling.” You can’t help the tease, anything that’ll get your mind off of the images of him over you as he pistons his hips to bury himself deep inside of you, to block out the sounds of his groans in your ear, or the feel of the shudder of his release.

His eyes flick up at you with a look that clearly says “Honestly?” before his vision drops again. Maybe you’re doing a better job of hiding your arousal than you thought.

“I was merely curious because…” his voice trails off as his hands slide down your hips until they slip off your skirt onto your bare skin. His hands are large and cool to the touch. It triggers a shiver that leaves you staggering. So much for trying to not show how you’re affected.

With a straight face, but knowing eyes, he tilts his head up to look at you as he continues, “…it’s so…” his hands start to glide up your bare skin, slipping beneath the skirt, slowly traveling higher as a smirk graces his lips while watching you, “… accessible,” he finishes just as his hands grasp your hips beneath your skirt, his fingers curling in the band of your panties tugging lightly as if to remove them.

Your breath catches in your throat. You swallow and exhale through an open mouth. You’re warm all over, particularly between your thighs. Your legs begin to tremble at the implications of his words. Your face flushes and you reach out to grasp his wrists, gripping tightly. To do what, you’re not sure. Assist him in removing the garment? Stopping him from taking you?

“Jumin!” You exclaim in a half whisper, half yell. Your eyes dart around the office as if to check if people were watching even though the both of you were obviously alone. Alone for him to do as he pleased… and you wouldn’t stop him.

With a deep chuckle he releases his grip on your panties and slides his hands down your thighs letting them stop midway as his thumbs begin to stroke the skin there. You breathe a little easier but find yourself fidgeting. Your thighs clenching together to stop the ache you feel forming from the almost-sexual encounter.

“Whenever I see you around the office you’re always wearing those tight,” his hands grip your thighs tighter, turning the skin white momentarily before releasing and seeing the color return, “pencil skirts.” His voice sounds deeper, as if he is trying to restrain himself.

Oh God, he’s not stopping. Do you really want him to stop though? His velvety voice washes over you, ensnaring you in warmth, his desire, and anticipation.

You don’t want him to stop. It’d kill you if he did.

“They leave nothing to the imagination. Though I don’t need to imagine, my love. I know every curve,” his hands travel to the back of your thighs running up and down the skin.

Your breathing is shaky, even after so long you’re amazed that he has this much control over you with just a few touches and some pretty woven words. His voice, his touch, the power he exudes in the air around you… it all targets you.

“And your ass,” his hands rapidly shoot up to cup your butt and squeeze. His eyes dangerously flash in pleasure when his hands meet bare skin. Perhaps today wasn’t the best day to wear a thong. Or was it?

Your mind was riddled with lust, your vision only seeing him, your body only feeling him, your ears only hearing him…

With his hands still cupping you he pulls you closer none too gently, your hands gripping to his shoulders to maintain your balance on wobbly legs as you’re pulled forward.

“Ju-Jumin! Wh-what are you doing?” You’re breathy. A sexual heat radiates throughout your body making you feel delirious. Your chest heaving slightly. His hands on you are bringing up vivid memories that cause tingles to travel through you.

Those same hands slide back down to your thighs and out from under your skirt to grip your hips again. He slowly rises from his seated position, placing a kiss along your clothed abdomen. His lips travel higher up the taller he stands. Another kiss placed just below your bosom. Your hands fall to his biceps and grip the fabric there, trying to steady yourself and your breathing. You’re struggling to keep your eyes open.

One of his hands comes up to fluidly unbutton the next four buttons on your blouse you had left closed for work modesty, effectively revealing your chest and bra.

“Mmm, I was…” he places a hot open mouth kiss on the swell of your left breast, sucking harshly on the skin there, a sharp gasp leaving you. It’s his favorite place to mark you. His hands at your hips once again grip you but with a greater intensity, shaking in his attempt to hold himself back.

“…under the impression…” another wet kiss, this time to your right breast.

“…that I was…” he drags his lips from your breast to your neck. You’re almost ashamed how readily your head lulls back for him, but the feeling of his lips and feverish breath on you cause you to forget any regret you may have. As long as he just keeps going…

“…loving…” he sucks the skin at the level of your pulse briefly, your eyes finally shutting and a heavy sigh leaving your lips. His lips travel to your ear and you notice his breathing is becoming strained just as yours is.

“…my wife.” He swiftly nips at your earlobe, before his hands shoot up. One arm wraps tightly around your middle, palm flat between your shoulder blades, firmly pressing you against him leaving no room to escape or wiggle. His other hand cups your neck, callused thumb tilting your head to the side harshly as his lips descend to yours before you can comprehend what is happening.

His kiss is ravenous, the force of it tilting your body to bend backwards. You feel your legs go weak but his arm around your middle flexes, effectively supporting your weight as you practically collapse against him. His lips coax yours open with little effort as you’re hardly putting up any resistance. The flavor of coffee is rich on his tongue. He explores your mouth determinedly, taking what he believes to be his. Long strokes of his tongue against yours, teeth catching your lips in bites, groans and moans caught in one another’s mouth and swallowed up. You can feel his hair tickling your forehead and cheeks. His thumb runs up and down your jaw, occasionally applying pressure to adjust the tilt of your head as he changes the angle of the kiss. Noses bump and brush.

His kiss is powerful. It commands. Look at me. Touch me. Feel me. Love me. Only me.

It drove you to near madness, teetering you on the brink of sanity.

Suddenly, Jumin twists your body to press you against his desk, the edge digging into the back of the middle of your thighs. You feel and hear the hand at your back promptly and boisterously slap against the surface the wood to stop the momentum of his body falling over yours as he presses closer to you.

It’s not close enough. You could have him pressed against you entirely from head to toe and you’d still reach out to pull him closer.

A few seconds more and you both pull away from one another’s lips, gasping for air. Your lips feel swollen, breathing ragged, face tinged with heat. You’re pleased to find his appearance is similar; mouth agape taking deep breaths, eyes blazing with focused lust, lips slick and tinted with your lipstick. He must like what he sees looking at you as his lips curve once again into that devious smirk of his, a promise of sexual satisfaction hidden in its depths.

In a flash you have his tie wrapped around your small hand, yanking him forward. His eyes widen in surprise briefly as his smirk falls from his face just as your lips wrap around his. This time you work your tongue into his mouth. Your kisses prove to be more teasing and playful than his.

Regardless, your initiation and domination of the kiss has Jumin wrapping his arms around you like a vice. Your free hand travels down his body, appreciating and pressing against the taut muscles and harsh lines beneath his button down to hook your fingers in a belt loop.

He groans into your mouth as your hand travels down his body, his hips pressing into you so you can readily feel his prominent arousal.

With your hands in a loop of his slacks and his tie wrapped around your fist, you tug him back and forth against your body. First pulling him in to kiss him roughly, your tongue pressing and wrapping firmly against his own before loosening your hold and allowing your tongue to trace his lips and give lingering pecks. His groans and gasps into your mouth thrilling you to your core, pleased that you’re able to get this reaction from him.

His hands course over your body, running along your back, grasping your shoulders, weaving into your hair, gripping your hips. You feel a rush of feminine desire pool through you the longer you kiss him, his body causing yours to bend to his every unspoken command.

The need for air becomes too great again and you pull yourself away. Though he’s breathing just as hard, his mouth kisses and suckles its way across your jaw and down your neck. A small moan of desire pours from your lips as he nips and laves at the flesh near your shoulder, your hips rolling towards his unabashedly.

You feel his smile against your skin as he continues to strategically place those bites and teasing licks along you.

“I’ve neglected you, my wife.” Another long and wet lick below your jawline.

“Your body wants me.” He whispers into your ear, deliberately letting his heated breath flow along your warm skin, making you feel even hotter. You feel the beginnings of gooseflesh prickling across your body.

“I can feel it in the way you pull me closer.” He places a firm kiss at the hollow of your neck, your head lulling back with a sigh, your hand subconsciously tugging on his tie again. The chuckle from him is dark and nefarious.

“I can hear it in the way you moan.” His hands press against your ass to grind you roughly into his arousal, bringing forth a wanton moan you couldn’t contain even if you tried.

“I feel it in the way you shiver.” His lips brush lightly over yours as he speaks, not quite a kiss. His hand runs along the side of your body, his fingers ghosting over your breast, traveling lower to the skin of your thigh raking his nails along it tauntingly. True to his word, your body shivers at his touch on cue, the delicious tingle running down your spine and flowing to your core.

“I feel it in the way you move.” Lips still brushing against yours, his hand grips your thigh and lifts it to wrap around his waist. As if against your will, your hips rock against him, welcome for the new angle. Thankfully, his hips press back into yours and his lips part in a fragmented exhale across your lips.

The free hand not holding your leg to him cups your face, angling you to rest your forehead against his. His jaw and teeth are clenched as he tries to control his breathing. You both continue to grind against one another, neither refusing to stop.

Suddenly, the way he’s looking at you almost remorseful.

Holding your gaze, he begins in a whisper, “I’d come home to you, already asleep, afraid to touch you that I might ruin your night’s rest. I’d leave you before the sun would rise, unable to see your smile…” His finger brushes against your lower lip, dipping in to run along the edge of your teeth and the tip of your tongue. When he pulls his finger out, he once again runs it along your lower lip, smearing your saliva there and into the commissure.

Your hands move, one to grasp his back, feeling his muscles flex with each roll of his hips, the other hand to the nape of his neck, holding him to you, your fingers weaving through the soft hair there and grasping tightly.

It’s rare that Jumin shares his emotions this way. Even through all the pleasure coursing through your body, you can’t help but feel heartbroken. Not just for him, but for the both of you.

His eyes close as he leans in to kiss you softly, chastely. It’s almost reverent. You sigh at the overwhelming rush of love you feel wash through you. It’s enough to take your breath away.

The moment he pulls away his eyes flash open. Gone is the sentimental glimmer you’d seen only moments before and in its place flashes a sinister sheen, a flicker of flame that only you would notice. There was something a little dangerous in his eyes, leaving you feeling a mixture of apprehension and excitement. 

You hold your breath in anticipation.

“I’ll just have to make it up to you.” Just as swiftly as he moved before, he spins you around in his arms so your back is pressed firmly against his chest. His hands come up to palm your clothed breasts, his lips falling to your neck to bite your warmed flesh, his tongue running along the course of your pulsing heartbeat. You could only open your lips in mute pleasure as he paid homage to your throat.  You feel a pool of arousal soak your panties. Anymore and you’re certain it’ll be sliding down your thighs.

You’re too far gone to worry about office propriety.

His expert fingers find your nipples, tweaking and teasing, rolling and pulling. He palms you, massaging and kneading your flesh. You make a silent wish your clothing wasn’t in the way.

As if he heard you, his hand wove itself into your half open blouse, slipping underneath the cup of your bra to touch you directly. You inhale with a hiss as his cool hand strokes your hardened sensitive nipple. You shudder and pant beneath his masterful touch. His free hand travels slowly up your inner thigh, fingers drawing lazy circles to match those he’s placing upon your breast.

You feel your legs tremble. Your abdomen clenches with your exasperated breathing and the throbbing between your thighs.

Just before his fingers are about to trace along your panties your legs give out beneath you. To keep you from collapsing, Jumin cups you directly, his hand firm to hoist your weight back up on wobbly legs. At the contact you moan and swivel your hips to ground harder on his hand despite not having use of your legs.

Once you’re standing on your own again, you press your hands against his desk, bent over slightly to support more of your weight on your arms. The firmness of his palm against you dissipates once he’s no longer the one managing your weight and the whine that rings from you is clear with neediness and desire.

He chuckles deviously directly into your ear.

“So needy… and so…” he bites your ear, “… so wet for me.” He drags his knuckles across the fabric of your panties, a barely-there touch, but you’re so sensitive already that your hips twitch at the contact and you bite your lip to keep from moaning.

“Don’t act like,” you can’t even muster your own voice to have any strength to it, “you’re not affected as well.” With that you roll your ass directly onto his throbbing erection behind you. His hands falter against you, his sharp intake of air and low growl leave you momentarily satisfied at having staunched his discourse.

Slowly his fingers start up again, coaxing your hips to sway along. His teeth nip at your ear drawing your attention away from his prying lithe digits.

“Oh, but I am always affected by you, my love.” His fingers applied a more solid pressure against your clit leaving you gasping for air, mouth agape, keening mewls spilling from you and your hips moved faster.

His voice dropped to a seductive whisper, “I always want you.” He presses the heel of his palm along your mons, forcing your hips to press back against the proof of his want for you.

He was positively sinful. And all yours.

Both of his hands leave you in a smooth motion. Your eyes widen in shock as you try to catch yourself with unsteady limbs. He couldn’t be stopping there could he? To just leave you both like this would be torture.

You hear a rustle of fabric behind you. Peering over your shoulder you see Jumin focused on the task of removing his tie and rolling up his sleeves. Oh God, if you weren’t turned on before you definitely were now.

When he sees you watching in rapture, he throws a smirk your way. The smug bastard knew exactly what he was doing, and he definitely wasn’t finished with you yet.

His hands run over you again, following your curves and pressing in where you’re soft. His breath tickles the nape of your neck, sends wisps of your hair flowing. He buries his nose into your hair and inhales deeply, taking in your scent. Nips at your neck and smiles when you shiver.

With one hand at your hip, his other rises up your spine. When he reaches between your shoulder blades he pushes you, gentle enough to not be forceful, but firm enough that you get his meaning.

He wants you flat on his desk.

Your limbs tremble and you’re suddenly thankful you’ve been non-verbally told to lay the majority of your weight down horizontally.

The desk is short enough that combined with the heels you’re wearing your ass is presented high in the air and enticing, the curve of your lower back sloped and prominent. You welcome the cool surface of the desk against the flushed skin of your chest and cheek, the first contact making you sigh.

You feel his eyes rake over your body, burning across your skin, drinking in the sight of you bent over for him oh so nicely and willing, entirely at his mercy. You hear him give a satisfied exhale and your flush deepens.

A few seconds later and you feel a rush of air waft across your rear as Jumin flips your skirt up and palms your ass cheeks.

His hands glide over your skin, leaving blazing trails of heat, coaxing gooseflesh to rise, leaving tingles in his wake. There’s a brief rustle of fabric again and suddenly his warm breath is washing over you. His wet tongue laves a moist trail along the underside of your right cheek causing them both to clench, a soft gasp leaving you. His hands palm you full again, gripping and releasing, watching your supple flesh bounce. His lips leave a hot wet open mouthed kiss above the curve of your left cheek. Your eyes flutter shut at the attention. It’s not until he harshly sucks in the flesh and bites you that you yelp and turn to look at him over your shoulder.

He doesn’t look ashamed in the slightest. He does it again, sucking harder at the skin determined to leave his mark. One only he will see. Even with the pain you feel yourself press into his palms, begging for more, silently asking him to move his attentions to your center.

His fingers slide to grip the edges of your drenched panties and drags them down your legs. The cool moisture from the crotch of them brushes across your inner thighs in its descent, making you squirm, and bite your lip as the cool air meets your cunt. You feel swollen and aching, drenched enough that he could slide in right now and you’d feel nothing but explosive pleasure.

When your garment reaches the floor, his hands lift your ankles, one at a time to help you step out of them. When he places your feet back down onto the floor, you realize he’s decidedly widened your stance, your core more readily open. You feel yourself dripping with want and unable to clench your thighs for any semblance of relief.

You hear a deep inhale and a groan from behind you. Looking back just in time to see Jumin with his eyes closed, your panties in his fist held just beneath his nose. When he opens his eyes they’re immediately staring back at you. He rises slowly, making a show of depositing your panties into his pocket.

Your hands grip onto the edge of the desk by your head and clench, knuckles turning white and straining from the effort.

His hands are on you again, running up and down the back of your thighs. Your cunt clenches as more arousal seeps from you. He teases, running his hands up and down, over your ass, dipping close to your core, and pulling away when you roll your hips.

“Tell me what you want, my love. I’ll give it to you.” His voice sounds so far away, faded in the background of the blood rushing through your ears.

A cool finger slides between your folds narrowly avoiding your clit as your hips jerk, a sharp “ah” leaving you.

“I didn’t catch that…” His finger lazily trails along the now slick skin of your inner thigh.

With a moan you whimper, “Touch me,” rocking your hips in an attempt to find his fingers.

When he does touch you it’s hard and rough. Two fingers vigorously rubbing your clit in sharp tight circles. Your hips jerk and stutter against his hand. A jagged cry rips from you. You bring a fist to your mouth to try to muffle your cries.

He doesn’t keep a rhythm, changing the pace and path of his fingers just as you’ve gotten used to any one given sensation. A twist of circles. Stroking along either side of your clit. A pinch. His thumb runs up and down your slit, the tip dipping into you every few strokes.

His cooler skin against your heated core adds alluring sensations. You quiver and rock your hips, faster and faster as you feel the build of pleasure. His thumb dips into you fully, running against your walls, bending and stroking to find that one spot that always has you screaming his name until you’re hoarse.

His free hands flexes against your ass, pushing and clinging onto you as he works your body. You hear his breathing marginally increase in effort, depth, and speed.

You ride his fingers, swaying and arcing to tease out your pleasure. The harsh slick sounds of your sex meeting his fingers rings around you. Moans and gasps trickle from your lips. Your fingers clench and unclench, finding nothing for purchase except the edge of the desk.

With a particularly hard thrust of his hand, he caresses that locus within you that makes your legs shudder and collapse. His body rushes to press against you to prevent you from sliding off the desk.

“Hmm, I think I’ve found it.” His strokes again, harder, punishing.

“Ah! Yes, Jumin! Jumin! Ha-ah! There!” Your voice is higher in pitch, needy, desperate, and lewd.

“Mmm, such lovely sounds you make for me. Let’s make you call my name again…” A third stroke, stronger than the last.

“JUMIN! OH, Jumin! Ahhh, yes.” You’re gasping for air.

“Like conducting my own private symphony.” His voice is sinuous.

His hand stops its motion and a sob reeks from you.

You feel his weight fall onto you, his hot breath wafts over your flushed cheek, “Are you ready for my grand finale?”

He doesn’t give you time to answer. His fingers move viciously against you, thumb hitting within you just right over and over, leaving you breathless. A litany of his name. A crescendo of mewls and moans. You feel like you’re drowning and burning alive at once.

The world shifted dangerously on its axis, the only thing grounding you the feel of Jumin within you. Everything tightened. Every muscle within you contracting at once. Your orgasm rushed through you and exploded your being into millions of tiny lovely fiery fragments.

Your muscles relaxed as your diaphragm worked overtime to make up for the lack of air. You felt exhausted, loose, and shivery.

Belatedly you noted the absence of Jumin’s touch but couldn’t find the strength to lift your head to see why, keeping your cheek pressed to his desk.

The feel of warm hard flesh against your sensitive folds had your head flying back and your body jerking away until rough hands grabbed your hips and pulled you back.

You hadn’t heard him free himself from his clothes and now his cock was pressed against you, slipping through your arousal and making you twitch and writhe.

The sensation was overwhelming so soon after an orgasm. Tears of pleasure and pain stung your eyes as you whimpered, still struggling to pull away. 

“That was a beautiful symphony. I think I’d like an encore.” His voice was deeper and gruff, significant evidence of his arousal.

He enters you slowly, shallowly thrusting into you with just the head of his cock. He slides into you easily, your body slick from orgasm and willing to accept him with no resistance. When he fills you completely you clench around him tightly, pulling a hedonic sigh from him.

He moves leisurely at first with long, slow, and deep thrusts. He lets you feel him, the strength, power, and desire of him. It’s love making. The deeper the thrusts the longer and more drawn out your moans become. He rolls his hips seductively when he’s in to the hilt. He caresses your skin. Though you can’t see him you can imagine. Imagine him behind you, eyes closed, head tilted back, appreciating the feel of you and this long awaited reunion.

His grasp becomes rigid when your cunt begins contracting more, the telltale signs of your pending orgasm – the trembles, the gasps, the tenseness in your body. His thrusts coming faster, unyielding and harsh. It’s fucking. His roughly grabs your hands, pulling them behind your back and holds your wrists together. From his occasional grunt you know he has to be clenching his teeth. You feel his urgency in the increasing pace of his movements, feel his restraint breaking. You bask in the sounds of his aggressive breathing. You try but can’t match his rhythm and so you go lax against the desk as he pounds into you. Your body jerks back and forth across the desk. He tugs on your wrists to pull your body against his, a soft cry leaving your lips with every forceful thrust.

You long to touch him. To wrap your arms around him. To rake you nails across his skin. Taste his skin and his tongue as you come undone for him.

“Ah! Ju-Jumin!” The desk begins to rattle from the ferocity of his thrusts. Your thighs are being slammed painfully against the edge of the desk. The squelching noises of your sex floods the room. The slapping of his balls slamming into you with each piston of his hips echoes off the walls. He was so deep within you, so much to the point where you could no longer differentiate whose trembles were whose.

Your body was on the precipice of euphoria and it was begging Jumin to help you fall.

“Oh God, Jumin. Please. Ah! Uhnn...”

With a grunt, he leans onto you, further pinning your arms to your body and crushing you to the desk, an uncomfortable ache developing in your shoulders. His free hand wraps around you and rubs furiously on your clit, urging you to fall over the edge. He bites your shoulder, the fabric of your blouse muffling his aggressive groans.

Words became impossible as you fall. Your head thrown back as high-pitched moans rip from you. Your walls pulsate spastically around Jumin. Electric shocks rocket through you leaving you blinded and in a rapturous haze.

Jumin’s body is stiff and straining over yours. His erect cock still nestled within your walls. You don’t feel the usual warmth or slickness as a result of his cumming.

You feel heavy and sated, but the desire to touch and feel Jumin overpowers the need for rest.

“Jumin… did you…” He pulls from you slowly with a slick sopping sound, releasing your wrists. A groan escapes your lips as his fullness abandons you and your arms fall to your sides.

You manage to coax your arms into lifting your weight and turn slowly to face him.

He stands just a few feet in front of you. Shirt half undone, cock at full attention, his trousers slung low on his hips, chest heaving. His eyes have a crazed passion swirling in their depths. It’s as if he’s looking through you. You notice his hands shaking imperceptibly, a tautness lingering in his body from lack of release… or restraint.

Before you can move to step toward him a low groan emits from his throat as his Adam’s apple bobs sharply. His eyes refocus and hone in on you, scrutinizing your body for his appraisal. Blouse unbuttoned enticingly, skirt wrinkled and twisted, staccato respirations, flushed, limbs weak, sweat dripping down your skin. You look thoroughly fucked.

In two strides he’s on you again, his mouth ravaging yours. The force of his kiss knocks the wind out of you. It was a collision of teeth, tongues, and lips. Your arms come up to wrap around his neck, just as his went around your waist, gripping and pulling you to him. Your fingers thread through his damp hair as his hands roam your back. His kiss is dizzying, possessive, and needy.

He kisses you slowly, taking his time to as if there is no other place else he would rather be. He kisses you passionately, as if this is the last kiss he will ever have. He kisses you like he’s forgotten the taste and feel of you. He kisses you until you moan and sigh, swallowing them with greed. He kisses you as if he’s starving for what only you can provide. He kisses you as if he’s trying to guarantee you’ll never be satisfied with anyone but him. He kisses you until you tremble. Until you can’t think. Until you’re utterly and completely his.

He pulls away, no further than a centimeter, to gasp for air but his eyes never stray from your swollen parted lips.

You survey him with half-lidded eyes, amazed at the passion he’s invoked in you with just a kiss.

“More.” It’s almost a plea when it falls from him before his tongue delves into your mouth once again, a groan rumbling from deep within his chest. It’s as if he can’t get his fill of you, never entirely sated. Greedy.

You’re awash with desire anew.

You need to touch him, to run your hands along his body making him feel as good and desired as he’s making you, to leave your own mark.

Your shaking hands make swift work of the buttons of his shirt and when the last button is undone you enjoy the guttural groan that’s ripped from him into your mouth when you run your hands down him from his broad shoulders to his lower belly, the heat of your hand emanating to his cock.

His lips never leave your skin, making his way from your mouth to your cheek, your ear, your throat, your collar bone, and finally to the swell of your breasts. All the while he’s licking at the sweat coating you, laving his tongue along your more erogenous zones, biting and pulling at the skin.

Your nails rake along his back directly on skin, a hiss leaving his lips as his hips jut against you.

He grips you beneath your breasts to lift and deposit you to sit on the edge of his desk, again never taking his lips off of you, and easily sliding between your open legs.

While he’s focused on leaving love bites along your breasts your hand drops to wrap around his throbbing cock. He jumps at the contact but you’re quick to wrap a legs around him, halting any retreat he may have considered and give him a few steady pumps.

His lips and teeth find the skin of your shoulder, sucking there in time with your hand on him. He hisses when you brush over the head, he rolls his hips when you do a long slow down stroke, he bites when you grab his testicles and squeeze, he groans when you tighten your grip, he pants when you speed up.

Abruptly, he reaches a hand up into your hair, yanking your head back almost painfully, and tugs on your wrist to pull your hand from him.

“I think… you’re forgetting who… is in charge here…” Though he’s starring you down, his underlying threat is belied by his faltering breathing and previous reactions to your hands on him.

You give a small smirk of your own for once and lick your lips, “Then maybe…” you squeeze your legs tighter around his waist, “… you should remind me.” It’s not a question. His eyes spark with excitement at the challenge.

His cock slams into your so suddenly you’re sure if he hadn’t been holding your head back you would have thrown it back and screamed.

He drives into you demandingly, taking no heed to your pleasure. This is a savage act of him using you for his pleasure alone. His hands leave your hair and fall to your hips, harshly gripping and frantically yanking you to him over and over as he continues to piston faster and faster. Sweat drips down his body, his groans almost feral, eyes pierce down to watch in satisfaction as his cock disappears again and again inside of you.

It’s all you can do to hold on to him. You have no control over the motions of your own body. Your hands flimsily fall to his biceps feeling his muscles flex as he manipulates your hips. Your head falls to the crook of his neck, muffling your whimpers and gasps against his skin.

The room smells of sex and sweat. The air humid and almost suffocating. Your skin sticks to his where it’s pressed together. The taste and smell of him salty and robust.

You can tell he’s getting close by how fast he is panting, how a moan is being released with every few thrusts, how his head falls to your shoulder heavily, and how his body starts to shake.

You weave a hand into his hair and grip, holding his head as still as you can as your wrap your lips around his pulse and suck hard. A growl tears from him, rumbling even throughout your body, when he feels your teeth on his neck.

His own teeth find your shoulder and he bites you hard enough to have tears spring to your eyes and a cry of pain breaks from you. His body tenses as he gives a few more stuttering thrusts before slamming into you one final time and cumming inside of you with a grunt.

You feel him slump against you, your body tensing to catch some of his weight lest he should take you down with him.

He takes a few minutes to compose himself. His breathing slows. His muscles relax. You feel his cock soften within you.

When he lifts his head from your shoulder he places a soft kiss to your forehead, so at odds with his previous behavior.

His pulls his cock from your body as you both watch the evidence of your coupling spill from you.

“Wait a moment.” His tone is tired and soft.

He reaches behind him into his jacket pocket on his chair and removes his silk pocket square. With practiced movements he delicately cleans you, folding the square every so often before wiping again.

You shiver at the touch. Though it’s not a sexual act in any way, you’re still sensitive at the moment and aching for another release.

When he’s satisfied with how he’s cleaned you he folds the square again before wiping himself and tossing kerchief into the waste bin beside his desk.

You look in shock at the square in the waste bin as you hear him make quick work of doing up his slacks. Surely, that kerchief was a couple hundred dollars at least, knowing him, and he just threw it away. He was still unbelievable sometimes.

When you look back up at him, his slacks are redone but his shirt is still open, giving you a nice view of his sweat glistening pectorals and abdomen. His hair falls into his eyes giving him a boyish charm that always makes you flush.

He steps between your legs again and places both hands on your cheeks, cupping your face and leaning into you.

The kiss he bestows upon you is chaste, reverential… sweet.

He pulls away enough for his lips to brush yours with his next words.

“I love you.” Though it’s a whisper you hear the conviction in his spoken words.

“I love – “ He places a finger over your lips, effectively cutting you off, before you can finish, causing you to blink rapidly at him.

“But what kind of husband would I be if I left my wife wanting?” His devious grin is back and you feel your body clench at the promise of orgasmic satisfaction.

He presses a kiss to the tip of your nose, then your lips, your chin, traveling down your neck and your revealed bosom. He skips over your clothed abdomen and sinks to his knees before you.

A shiver runs through you when he’s in this position, as if he’s worshiping you. 

He runs his hands up and down your calves, placing soft kisses along your knees, slowly moving them up your inner thighs. He rotates which leg gets his oral attentions, making the pace of his journey to your core achingly slow. You feel yourself growing more and more wet as his steamy breath ghosts across your skin, as his tongue gives broad strokes to your skin.

When he finally touched you, he knew how to start off. Long laps of his tongue, fully tasting you, all of you. He’d break away to sneak teasing kisses along your thighs. He’d build up your pleasure and pull away before you could crest over the edge. He’d circle your clit with his tongue then give it a solid lick. He’d kiss your lips, suckling them into his mouth. His tongue would delve into you attempting to coax more of your essence into his mouth.

You loved how he moaned when he went down on you. The tiny vibrations raising your pleasure ever so slightly.

Your fingers ran through his hair as your body began to shiver.

He watched you through hooded eyelids, looking up at you from beneath his lashes as he pleasured you.

He rides the waves of hips with his mouth, tempting you higher and higher until he pulls away again just as you’re about to peak. He smiles at your whimper when he resumes his kisses along your thighs, nipping at you to chastise.

When your trembles subside he returns. Another deep broad slow lick. You crave for his fingers, but he seems determined to bring you to completion with only his tongue.

“Have I ever told you, my love…” another broad lick, this one faster than the last, “… that I love the way you taste?”

You’re incapable of forming words, body strained from the rise and fall of near orgasm. You bite your lip and give what you hope is a nod, knowing he’s watching you all the while.

He moans as he sucks on your clitoris and your head falls back as you echo him.

“If I could bottle this up…” his tongue dips into you, his hot breath diffusing across your skin, “… I’d drink it every day and pray my glass would never empty.”

This man definitely had a silver tongue, in more ways than one.

A gush of arousal slips from you though he’s quick to catch it, slurping it up hungrily.

“Mmm, sweeter than the finest wine.” He smiles against the skin of your inner thigh. Feather light kisses peppered across you.

“ _Jumin_ , please.” You can’t take the teasing anymore. The need for release is almost painful.

“Have I ever told you,” his eyes flash to look directly into yours, “… that I love it when you beg, too?”

The loudest shriek from you yet escapes your lips, when his lips curl around your clit and suck. You slap a hand to your mouth hastily.

You feel him smile against you as he resumes the broad strokes of his tongue, “A little louder, darling.”

You flush so much you’re almost certain he’d feel the increase in heat against his tongue.

You clench his hair and press his head more firmly against you, hoping it’ll make him both shut up and move things along faster.

He gets the hint.

When your body begins to tremble again your free hand clenches along the desk, nails raking across the wood varnish and clenching a piece of paper.

The sound of the wrinkling paper prompts Jumin to open his eyes. Without stopping his silver tongue, his hand reaches out to coax yours open, releasing whatever document you’d crushed within your hand and interlaces his fingers with yours.

He returns every clench of your hand with one of his own. Runs his thumb soothingly along the side of your palm.

It takes him only a few more moments to have you coming undone. Your thighs clench around his head like a vice as your entire body convulses and twitches. The grip of his hand grounding you, bringing you back to him as you float down.

His mouth catches every bit of your orgasm, swallowing it up brazenly.

You try to pull away, but Jumin’s free hand clenches your thigh to hold you in place as he goes about cleaning you up. He takes his time, savoring every part of you.

When he’s finished he rises smoothly to his feet and uses the pad of his thumb to swipe his lower lip before licking them clean. He reaches out to you and places his thumb to your lips. You readily suck on his thumb tasting yourself on him. Once he’s satisfied he pulls his hand away.

You reach out and tug on his open shirt, prompting him closer. He obliges you, knowing you’re into post-sex cuddling, with a happy smile on his face. You wrap your arms around his middle beneath his shirt and press your cheek to his chest. His arms wrap around you, running his strong hands soothingly up and down your back.

You suddenly wished you were both in bed instead of an office so you could fall asleep together.

You press a kiss to his chest. You meant it as a quick thank you, but you find you can’t stop once you’ve had the taste of his skin again. One kiss becomes two, then six, then ten. You brush your mouth over his nipples and swirl your tongue over one, giving an appreciative hum as said nipple puckers for you so easily.

You’re pulled back suddenly with forceful hands on your shoulders.

“You’re insatiable.”

You run your nails down his sides, watching as his stomach clenches.

“Hmm, that may be so, but…” you allow your eyes to travel up to look into his, “… only for you.”

His grin is wide and genuine. Beautiful sparkling white teeth blind you. He presses a quick heavy kiss to your lips before pulling away entirely.

“You should get fixed up. You can use my en suite.” He nods his head towards the direction of the door.

With a sigh you slide off the desk and on wobbly legs walk into the en suite. Once inside you take a moment to inspect yourself.

Hair tussled. Blouse open, wrinkled, and twisted. Skirt winkled and twisted. Love bites litter your skin from neck to your shoulder and breasts. You flip your skirt up and turn to look at your rear in the mirror and sure enough see a red bruise forming above your butt cheek. Eyes bright. Cheeks flushed. Skin glowing and flushed.

You take your time putting yourself back together, washing up as best you can with the towelettes available. You do your best to smooth out the wrinkles of your clothes and to brush out the tangles of your hair with your fingers. You position your hair across your neck to hide as many of the marks as you can to little avail.

You suddenly realize that you’re still sans panties. With a huff you walk out of the en suite.

Jumin stands at his desk. His button up was redone with his tie back in place. He stood relaxed, adjusting the precise correctness of his French cuffs protruding from his jacket sleeves. With pride you noticed his cufflinks were the golden cat ones you’d bought him this past Christmas. A new pocket square was in place; did he just have a tissue box dispenser of them? His hair was slicked back. His shoes glimmered with a billion-dollar sheen. He was the epitome of style, cultivation, and sex appeal.

The only tell-tale sign that he’d been doing the dirty in his office was the bright purple bruise on his neck. Just seeing it brought a wicked smile to your face.

His eyes rose to look at you, seeing you smile.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re so pleased about.” He says, reprimanding. He gives a quick tap at the love bite on his neck.

You make a show of using your fingers to pull your blouse aside and once again revealing all the love bites stippled across your bosom.

“Tit-for-tat, darling.” You silently congratulate yourself on your pun. He doesn’t seem amused. You hurry to continue, clearing your throat, “I believe you have something of mine.” You hold out your hand, palm up, expectantly.

His eyebrow rises a trifle.

“Oh! You mean this?” He pulls your panties out of his slacks pocket, once again fisting them and holding them up to his nose as he inhaled. His eyes betrayed the fact that he was smirking behind the panties he was holding.

“Yes. _Those._ ” You tried to sound stern.

“I think I’ll keep them. A… souvenir, if you will.” He pocketed them again, leaving your mouth agape.

“Besides, I quite like the idea of you so exposed should I decide to say… take a trip to your office later?” You bite your lip at the thought. Could you ever get enough of this man? Apparently not.

You stalk up to him until you’re directly in front of him and looking up into his face. “Or maybe…” you run a finger down his tie, “I could _ride_ home with you today?” You look up at him innocently and see your meaning is not lost upon him as his eyes were ablaze.

Just as he begins to lean down to kiss you there’s a sharp triple rap at the office door. You swiftly turn you head, causing his lips to catch your cheek before you call out for whomever it was to come in. Jumin’s growl of frustration rumbles low and deep in your ears.

Jaehee walks swiftly through the door, carrying even more documents than you saw her handling before.

“Sorry to intrude, Mr. Han.” She nods in your direction, “Mrs. Han.”

“No intrusion, Jaehee.” You make eye contact with Jumin. “I was just leaving.”

You lean up on tip toe, even in heels, to give him a quick kiss, feeling how pursed his lips are.

Jaehee places the documents on Jumin’s desk and explains she’s in need of some signatures. Jumin nods and waves her off.

Just as Jaehee is about to exit the door you call out for her to wait for you. 

You look down at all the documents now set on Jumin’s desk.

“Looks like we might not get to go home together after all.” You feign disappointment, a light teasing in your voice.

“Oh, we definitely will.” His voice leaves no room for argument.

You go to turn away before you notice scratch marks along his desk, next to the crinkled document you’d had in your hand.

“Oops, I scratched your desk.” He doesn’t even bother to look at said scratches when you speak, his eyes never leaving you, body tense.

“Consider it… another souvenir?” He doesn’t even smile at your quip.

“Well, I guess I’ll go then. Lots of work to do. Can’t keep Jaehee waiting in the hall forever.” You walk away with an extra sway of your hips, acutely aware of the eyes boring into your back.

You shut the door resolutely behind you and see Jaehee waiting for you just as you’d asked. She looks significantly brighter and more relaxed. The nap must have done her some good.

You begin the short walk back to your own office at a leisurely pace.

“You look refreshed, Jaehee!” You smile brightly at her.

“You do as well,” she says as she adjusts her glasses on her nose, her cheeks tinged pink, and a faint smile on her lips as she looks at you from the side of her eye.

You both burst into a fit of laughter but can’t help but walk a little faster when you hear the sound of Jumin’s door opening rapidly and abruptly behind you…

**Author's Note:**

> Well, how was it?
> 
> Do y'all like the long drawn out fics or would you prefer it just gets right to the nitty gritty?
> 
> Also, I have a Tumblr (Guacameowle) if you'd like to swing by & share your headcanons with me! Who's your favorite character & why? What don't you like about some characters? Who's your least favorite? Share your thoughts with me! 
> 
> Maybe you'll inspire a future fic! I could always use some more inspiration.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading. I really appreciate it! xx


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